


With Teeth 14

by HeatSignature



Category: The Loud House (Cartoon)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22203517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeatSignature/pseuds/HeatSignature
Summary: saved copy of this lost chapter





	With Teeth 14

Story by Vonivar

Smothering. One of the last words Lincoln had to define for a paper his last school year. It was easy for him to give his own words for it, since his sisters essentially encased him with it whenever he was found hurt or they made up. Now, he was experiencing that perfect ten-lettered word again, finally, this month. He could feel too many pairs of hands to count. And something told him that too many of those hands were... feminine. But, this was his family. He didn't feel the moral or energetic essence in him to doubt their standing cling. He wasn't happy. He didn't know what to feel. When Sam was on top of him, a chunk in his head felt like feeling something, but it seemed to be like a machine that had been dented from all the steam that passed through the pipes and eventually burst, warping the entire body. But what he knew, before he knew people would likely tell him, is that he wouldn't be able to feel, from now-on, what he was supposed to feel in those moments with Sam mere inches away from him. But one thing that was certain, was his own uncertain mind. That feeling he almost felt scared him, even the thought of it.

Lynn Loud was currently hitting her head on a vending machine. The plastic contained liquid, a fluid of one oxygen and two hydrogen, was ending its final sloshes within the container at the oddly angled depression of the machine. If her mind weren't filled with the rattling, ever present memory of what the Who loving molester, and now attempted rapist, then she'd be joined in the hug his entire family was giving him. None of her siblings had called on her, probably because they were too tied up in making sure Lincoln was still flesh and not ceramic at this point. The reason for her cephalic self-harm was not only to get the gruesome, static coated memory out of her thoughts, but also because she was trying to punish herself for not knowing sooner, what was going down with Lincoln, or more accurately, and disturbingly put, where Lincoln was being force to go down to. She stopped when she remembered why she bought a bottle of water. Usually, people who went through tremendous amounts out stress, whether physically or emotionally, used up a lot of energy. Being a progressive athlete, she knew this. And thus, had wanted to get something other than sperm bubbles in Lincoln.

Luan Loud currently trying to keep her family at bay from overwhelming her brother. If it had been any other situation she would have been laughing. But right now, she was no comic. She was working on becoming that student at school who always brings a cloud over them, but still tries to be polite. And all she had to do for that role, was wait. Wait for the news-casters and reporters of Royal Woods, so bored with their mundane, little-to-none story jobs, to rush up the moment her family exits the building, and ask about the kid who's pain was just a couple paragraph's worth to them. The idea was burning tinder in her mind. But was not like the bonfire that was her hate for Sam. A myriad of her banned pranks began to be released from their neuron-filing prisons, and simultaneously unleashed on the excuse for a human.

Seas of white noise were flowing as a sea should, once. But now, it lived. And with its life, it sprung like a thousand spiders, all making up one large insect that had legs that turned into more legs and so on, and with all of its half detached, half undulating limbs, it curled like a spider in death, and swarmed upon Luna Loud, like an army of liquid soldiers. All the colors were various shades of impossible, inconceivable white, yet still visible to Luna. She was not partaking in understanding her brother's existence, as for so long now, she'd came to ignore it.

A part of her was laughing in a never-ending tube of daisy-chains, her fingers inter-locked with Lincoln's. But he was falling faster. And she couldn't catch him. Something was holding her back in the air, and she was slowing down. All the flowers, turning blacker as she fell, began to face her. And when her motion left her completely, a single white petaled flowed strung its stem out toward her, its hollow, decayed stem, and the pollen, with all its spikes, parted. Where there was to be a stigma, there was Lincoln's face, grimly cut and under necrosis around the edges where it met plant. The mouth stretched open, tearing the flesh of the cheeks, cracked from the white urine that dried them. A voice more like Sam's, but with Lincoln's tone applied to it, and the scratching of stone on stone, all mixed together, came from it. As it began to speak the air and skin on the face began to ripe off, as well as the petals, and burn in nothingness. Luna could here all of what it said, even though it spoke for only a second, and she heard it as if it had spoken one sentence for an entire year, too slow for her to make any sense of it. But with each sound, some too fast and some too slow for her ears, she could still hear it repeatedly and without any ache, other than the pain that it sounded like bombshells bursting and the continuation of a creaking chair.

After moments that were there, though she was not, but she was the sounds, and the flowers were the sounds, but she was not here, because the flowers were the face, and the face was the sound, but it couldn't be because she was the sound, but then she saw her own face in place of the the flower's, she saw it burn. Then the tube of daisy-chain collapsed, and all around her were the moments of her and Lincoln, together, just them. All the memories had a rusted stitching between them, and she couldn't help but feel she could see herself hurting her brother in every one of those memories. But every time she turned to another, one she thought was off, it changed back to normal. She kept spinning and spinning in this world of die-as-you-please, and fell through a sheet of physical pain, which resembled needles, far apart enough to impale, and all going a world deep into her, as she slid down the thin poles of pain in eternity, for her lack of maternity.

Luna Loud woke up on the shit-spot, the opposite of the sweet-spot in the Loud Van. The thoughts of her recent vivid sleep came to her, but she did not shudder. Having gone through such an exhausting theatrical pursuit, her mind had somewhat reset. She was confused on her surroundings, and looked outside of the van windows. Off the glimmer of lights inside the building, she saw in frail light the sign that showed her where she was. The police station. At first she wondered if one of her family members had done some trouble. Then it all unfolded in her head. Coming home, getting her vinyl thrown at her, then... watching the video, it all restated itself.

One tear fell, then another, and soon Luna found herself weeping away in insecurity she never had before all this. That cell that Sam had built up around her had blinded her from the more compact cell Lincoln was given. Her cell was all tightly wrapped up in various bows and her bed made of fantasy, just as the whole idea of them was. Whereas Lincoln was surrounded by dripping holes in the walls, and had to sleep while sitting, because he didn't have enough room to lie down. And she assumed that he was living in a five-star hotel room, just as she was. Further than that, she assumed that for mist-covered reasons, he didn't deserve any of it. All while she unveiled this, she cried fervently, finally.

Through the window, which made visible the waiting-area of the police station, she could see Lincoln being hugged by all the rest of his family, except for Lynn, and maybe Luan. This made her cry even more, but also gave her a grit to walk over there. Her body did not receive the order to move at first, slow from her moving into unconsciousness. But after trying again, she moved out of the van, stumbling out of the vehicle onto the cold, asphalt ground. Going in a confused, scared, pitiful lurch, Luna began traversing the seemingly endless synthetic rock isles between her and her brother. When she reached the sidewalk, her foot misjudged and tripped her up. As she had passed out, and the family was quick to see Lincoln, she didn't have her shoes on. Looking down, she didn't see any blood, but there was a nasty scrape. A second there, she paused, looking at the wound, realizing how much she deserved it. She almost cried again, but didn't feel she deserved to. Instead, she continued her walk. Opening the door, she felt everyone's gaze on her, some scared, some angry, one not even looking, and two naive.

"Oh, honey, it's good you're awake. Lynn and Luan helped Lincoln get here and..." Rita said, a tear rolling down her cheek. She would never have guessed what happened next.

"Come on, I think there's room for one more." Lynn Sr. said, with his haggard looking smile, insured of the hope, but pained behind that insurance. He also couldn't imagine why Luna looked more gravely at Lincoln than anyone else.

Before Luna could embrace Lincoln, Luan side-stepped in front of her, a worn warning on her face. Everyone but Lynn, still at the vending machine, stared at Luan worriedly. "Like to explain, you're loose opinions of our brother now?" The comic said. That uprooted Luna from the dead grass patch she'd planted herself in. But with her roots in the air, it felt so hard to breathe.

"Lincoln, I'm so... so... sooo-" she began to openly cry in front of everyone, her posture sinking into itself, "I'm sorry!" She screeched loudly, mainly in hopes that she could bust out her own ears as an apology.

"Luna, sweetie, why are you sorry. I know we... we all missed... this. But... why?" Lynn Sr. asked, his daughter's tears making him weepy. He was trying to keep a brave face. Having gotten all the details from Luan, he knew that there was some hope as Lincoln wasn't fully defiled. But he, nor his wife, could take their children's tears.

"N-No, dad! No, just... no." Luna stammered between her cascade. "I-I... I hit him... Why... why did I do that, dad?" She said as her mind felt itself lacking of air and constantly switching it age. She asked him that as she didn't have the answer, or the energy to look for one, in herself.

"W-what do you mean, honey?" Rita asked, her smile beginning to fade. "Who did you hit? Who's this "him"?" She asked, feeling like she could figure it out herself, but also feeling like she didn't want to know the answer.

"I-I-I..." Luna stuttered, scared, alone, broken, and all at once, beginning to know how Lincoln has felt. "I hit Lincoln..." Luna said in a loud whisper. The sisters, having already known this, cringed at being reminded of it, even Lynn and Luan. The parents gasped as the pieces fell into place before them. But before they could reprimand her, or more likely, ask for confirmation, a police woman came out to talk to them, saying the family's last name before the two adults could speak.

"Mr. and Mrs. Loud," they begrudgingly acknowledged her, as Lincoln felt himself hide behind Luan from the officer, "We have the girl in custody in one of our interrogation rooms. She is currently in one where there is a wall separating our investigators and the suspects. If you'd like, you can see the suspect, but we ask you to refrain from communicating with her. It just mandatory." The parents paused for a moment, trying to not become hot-headed that the officer would interrupt them at a time like this, but after a minute or two, accepted the regulations.

When they walked in, the Loud family could see the glass wall that defended them from this psychotic mess on the other side. The glass met a counter, and in front of that counter were two stool chairs. Behind everyone else was Lincoln, who Lynn and Luan had taken the literal sides of. Luna intended to be a corner of the room, but found it cramped and was pushed to the front. There, along with her parents, she looked at the creature behind the glass. It wore indignation on its face. Luna could only look at her now ex-girlfriend with a glum disappointment. But somewhere there, she thought could see herself. And thought he might see Luna too, if he looked through the glass.

After a hard look of contained fury from everyone but Luna and Lincoln, the family left, Lincoln never meeting eyes with Sam on that day again. But the last thing Sam noticed other than that, was the finger Lynn had given, and the feeling that the little girl had been pardoned by the officers.

* * *

The courtroom was bustling with people. It had been a week since the family last saw Sam, and in that time investigators looked through the Loud home. In the plumbing and Lisa's records of it, they found that when Lincoln used the toilet, he spat out, once puked up, the incriminating evidence to be used against Sam. They also swabbed the boy's mouth and found evidence of the lower hair's of Sam to have been there at some point. On his pair of underwear, the investigators found prints of Sam's around a specific part on the frontal area. There were many other pieces of evidence the prosecution had, like witness accounts, but all of those tens of pieces of evidence were circumstantial. The most important piece of evidence was the footage of Sam and Lincoln. Lisa had edited out the part with Luna at the end, but no one needed to know that.

The specific room used in the courthouse was larger than the average courtroom. It was mainly used for federal level crimes. But the police and judicial system hadn't had a case like this for a while. In the gallery, all the Louds, grandparents included, were there, along with the McBrides, the Santiagos, and a few others from the town of Royal Woods, with the only people not being in the gallery specifically were Luan and Lynn, who were being processed as a witness, and Lincoln who was in a seat by the prosecution. The only person on Sam's side of the gallery was her mother, who looked somewhat out of it. But everyone could understand that. It isn't every day a prosecutor say to a judge and jury that they accuse a sophomore of thirty-three counts of molestation, as the evidence said, and two counts of attempted rape.

During the case, the prosecution presented all the evidence up front, except for the witness accounts and camera footage, which was mentioned, but was said to be saved for last, which had to be presented one at a time. Three detectives of the case were called first and explained their investigation thoroughly, and between them a fluent relation of evidence, the grave, incriminating cherry on top of the case the prosecution made. The defense attorney had no questions for them. As Luan was older, she went first.

"I used my bike and rode with my sister to the place where my brother and his molester were right after me and my sisters found the footage of what the defendant had been doing to my brother." She spoke with a stoic voice, admired by the jury and even the judge.

"Ahem," began the attorney, "your honor, I believe the jury should note what the witness and her sister did when they arrived at the location." The attorney knew this case was hopeless, but he promised to scrounge up whatever he could from it.

"What is it that the defense implies?" The judge asked.

"My client reports that when the witness and her sister arrived at the location, they beat her mercilessly. My client says the witness in particular had nearly crushed her abdomen by means of stomping on the defendant. Here are her medical records, and a print of the heel that investigators found matched the witness's shoe tread." The defense said, as he stood up and gave the judge and jury the paperwork. A few gasps from the jury and gallery came forth, some surprised, some too supportive to let it hide, none sounding angry.

"Would the witness like to explain this?" The judge turned to Luan, nearly hovering above her. The girl felt herself almost quiver, hoping that her and Lynn's efforts hadn't hurt Lincoln's case.

"Objection, your honor!" The prosecution nearly shouted. The judge turned to him, surprised that the prosecution still had something up its sleeves. "I have here multiple affidavits from the officers on scene that state multiple times, Luan Loud and Lynn Loud had arrived on the scene before them." What he didn't tell them is that it was only a second difference, but what a difference it was.

The judge's brows raised, as the defense's furrowed, but most of the jury and gallery, and even Luan, looked confused. "Does the prosecution mean to exempt Luan Loud and Lynn Loud from legal pursuit by reason of the Wright Clause?" The judge said.

"Yes, your honor." The prosecution stated. "The prosecution means to state that both Luan Loud and Lynn Loud have impunity from the law as the Wright Clause justifies their attempt to protect the claimed victim from any form of harm, including but not excluded to rape."

"Objection, your honor!" Came the defense. "Even as the witness and her sister were for a minute legally free as the prosecution states, my client has said that even when the officers arrived on scene, the two girls continued to physically hurt her." The judge closed his eyes for a moment, thinking.

"As both sides make accurate and likely claims, the court must move to a Juristic Compromise." The judge said, referring to when the jury voted on which side had made a better claim on a particular part of a case that was being currently disputed. "If the jury would vote for either the prosecution's or the defense's claims, the court will continue proceedings."

The members of the jury were all given slips of paper and a pen. Silence filled the courtroom as the twelve members filed away on their votes, some looking to the ceiling to think. After a minute all the cards were taken up and given to the judge. "Let's see here..." The judge said as he calculated the votes. Luan and the rest of the Louds leaned over in anticipation. "By a vote of nine to three, the prosecution's claim is justified by the jury, and thus, Luan Loud, nor her sister, Lynn Loud, will be charged for assaulting the defendant, by reason of the Wright Clause." Luan could feel the gaze of the defense. But more so the gaze of Sam. "Now, if the witness would continue her testimony?"

"Yes, thank you, your honor." Luan said, feeling the stone in her gut release. "When I arrived at the location, I found the defendant above my brother, nearly squatting over him. I remember clearly how she was... bare, down there." Luan said, a little horrified by the things she was saying. Members of the jury flinched at some parts, but were mostly infuriated with the defendant, only a few passed off the testimony, even though they felt they should agree with the other members. "I will admit that after my sister tackled the defendant, I went over and stomped on the defendant's abdomen, as the defense says. But after that scene, no one in my family, I assure the jury, has harmed Sam. That ends my testimony." Murmurs in the jury passed, even the gallery had a mixed reaction.

"Thank you, Ms. Loud. Now, will the prosecution bring forth its next witness."

"Yes, your honor." The prosecution replied, signaling for the bailiff to bring out Lynn Loud. "Will the witness state their name and occupation." He said to Lynn when she was at the podium.

"My name is Lynn Loud, and I am a student at Royal Woods Jr. High."

"Will the witness please testify as to what she saw when she arrived on the scene."

"Yes. As my sister said, we left our home to ride to the location by bike, and when we got there, I found Sam... nesting herself on my brother. She was handling him with her hand... T-trying to get him... inside her..." She paused between the words, feeling a piece of her crumble. It wasn't normal for Lynn to feel fear. But even with the juristic compromise, she felt she may have failed Lincoln with every word she spoke. The jury looked disturbed, as did the gallery. "I tackled her and began punching her face in until the officers took me off of her. I end my statement." Lynn said, feeling the tears appear in her eyes. She almost ran crying when she left the podium.

"Thank you." The judge said solemnly. "Now... I believe the prosecution has one last piece of evidence." Silence. "Hmm?"

The prosecutor wore a look of deep, empathetic sorrow. He had turned to the gallery behind him, the Loud family's gallery, empathizing with each soul as he processed the actual audio of the truthful words he directed Lynn to say. He turned, a pissed look on his face. "Yes, your honor! The prosecution would like to present to the court and jury a video tape of a camera recorded moment in the house of the Louds. The camera system is used to record any possible burglars that came through the front door, but caught an important, vital moment between Lincoln Loud and the defendant."

A television on a stand was rolled in and placed in front of the jury, defendant, and judge. The tape was played. As the video went on, the jury members' faces grew more and more grave and disturbed. Even the judge winced at it once or twice.

"This depicts the first recorded account of the defendant's charge of attempted rape, and the witness testimonies of the victim's sisters state the second. The prosecution rests its case."

"D-Does the defense have any objections?" The judge asked wearily. The defense attorney shook his head. "Do the prosecution or defense have any final comments?" No one moved, no one spoke. Everyone just had a face of appall.

"Well then, the court must move to its verdict. If the jury would discuss the case in the next room..." The judge said before the members of the jury did so.

Five minutes. It was five minutes before they came back. In that time all the people who wanted to physically punish Sam could've done so. But they didn't. They waited. Luan waited. Lynn waited. Luna waited. Lincoln waited. But then they didn't have to wait any longer. Because the jury came back. And the judge asked them their verdict. One man, with blonde hair, and a tall face, spoke up for the entire jury.

"Your honor, the jury has decided its verdict." He paused and took in a breath. "Of the thirty-three counts of molestation, and the two counts of attempted rape... The jury finds the defendant..." He stated her name slowly, then paused.

"Guilty."

* * *

It was nighttime. Sam was being put in some prison for the crimes more serious than juvenile. And Lincoln was shutting the door to his room after dinner. He had felt apprehensive as everyone sat at the adult table, mainly because he had to see Luna, or any of his older sisters... He shook his head. They were his family. He could trust them. That's what the therapist said. But... it was like a needle was stuck inside him, and no matter what he did, it just wouldn't go away. whatever it was doing to him, or did to him, he thought with a shudder, it was something new.

Knowing that this needle was not normal for all kids, he might've thought himself special- special to Sam maybe- and yet... Since when did being special mkae you feel so... apprehensive?

Lincoln didn't think on it, because thinking he can freely think about things without remembering is dangerous. He knew this now. He always would. And somewhere deep beneath that white hair, he thought that would end up being the same for the apprehension.

That was his last thought before he stared blankly at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

The next morning, Luna was gone. He overheard such from his parents in the kitchen early next morning. He then ran back to his room in tears. Everything had been uprooted right as he thougt he had finally reached the ground.

Later that morning he heard from the hallway about Luna's portion of the closet. Ruined. Broken. Diffident. Like him. In the wreckage they had found a note. Unknown to Lincoln, Luan cried when she saw it before learning its contents. Thankfully, it didn't actually contain any pre-mortem ideas. Instead, it stated where the brunette was, "Chunk's", what she was doing, "Giving Lincoln space", and why she left.

"Because offing myself would never make up for the literal fuckery I put my only brother through. And being the mirror of that," There were multiple faded eraser marks at that next word in the note, "Thing," Spaces where he paper got wet came after that and blotched the rest of the note, "Did to him, I might as well have done it myself." The lattermost shown of the note had become increasingly bold and edged in its handwriting. There was more to the letter, but it was only insults to the "thing" and Luna herself, and many, many apologies, phrases repeated, were at the end.

People assume they can take a hit. They assume. For Lincoln, the assumption was that Luna wouldn't be so hard on herself. But a day later, and the loud home was surrounded with paparazzi. The boy assumed it was because of the trial. That in itself brought to him memories that made him feel despondent. But the camera were really trying to get a picture of the boy who was betrayed by his sister. who happened to be his molester's lover.

The self-deprivating live confession Luna made and uploaded was on the charts of the internet. As was all of their personal lives.

People are people. Except for when they're not, and they're like the "thing." This meant that the people more like spoons who wanted to get more than adequate scoop appeared just about the same time as the people made of bullets, balistas, and blame.

Luna Loud checked into a psychiatric hospital two weeks later. No calling her parents. No talking to her siblings. She didn't think they'd want to. That went especially for Lincoln.

The Louds were heartbroken after hearing about it after-the-fact. Most of all Lincoln. And he felt weak about it. Just as Sam had said. Many, many, many times. How could he assume any of this happening? Any could anyone? People just kept assuming things as if anyone knew anything about anyone else. But they didn't. How could they, when something like... like all of this happened? Lincoln assumed he could trust so many people with his life. Now he was hiding in his room because of reasons he couldn't define. He assumed Luna would pay attention more to her lover when things looked normal on the outside, and he'd never assume all the rust that came from Sam's mouth. He felt Luna should have assumed more about Sam, and Sam of Luna. Even then, Sam should have assumed more if the protectiveness of the world, and the world should have assumed more of a teen blonde girl. Everyone was assuming the wrong things, that's what he knew now. Lincoln began beating on his bed, then on the walls. He began screaming into his pillow just as he, and a lot of his family had been doing. But this time he threw away the pillow, grabbed his head, rolled onto the floor, bruising, crazed, and continued screaming without any muffling. He didn't want tobe muffled, not after what Sam did.

No one wants to listen. No one assumes the right things. No one can. No one likes life anymore. No one wants to die because we're all afraid of death. No one's happy. No one's happy. No one's happy.

Lori busted into Lincoln's room to find her brother passed out, out of dehydration from crying so much, out of humidity from the small room and the carpet being soaked in lugubrious fluids of pain, and out of hyperventalation from hating life.

We assume everything is okay. We always do. But more often than not, we're wrong. Just like the world.

From the doorway to her brother's room, Lynn looked on at the poor by, whose frustrations were chipping his entity as if it were the new tooth he got from Lisa, which matched the original exactly, color, chip, and all. The new tooth, seeing it in seeing Lincoln, could've made her have something else to think about other than...

Why can't we always assume what's happening, and always be correct?

Off of one of the vent slits, rolled down an unnoticed tear. Lucy thought to herself that that tear was as unnoticed as her brother once was. The radiance of light kept in her, and many other's, diamond eyes, was now seeping out in the first tears of childish, humiliated inability. Just as his did long ago. And with that, an idea came into her mind.

People don't always assume. A lot of things we know. And when it's not, it'll be one of the few moments when it happens in our lives. So when it does, we need to be sure of our assumptions.

**Author's Note:**

> saved copy


End file.
